He suspected her amusing comment was said purely to ease his conscience.
“Do you think it wise to call on Henry tomorrow?” Isabella continued. “Judging by the stern look on your face I thought you were about to strangle him with his cravat.”
“Trust me. I was tempted.” Indeed, it had taken a tremendous amount of willpower not to punch Henry Fernall hard in his gut. “I don’t know how he can look you in the eye when he behaved so appallingly.”
Isabella smiled. “I know, but I cannot be angry with him. Had it not been for the hauntings at Highley Grange I would not have approached you to ask for your help. And then we might never have discovered the truth.”
His chest felt hollow when he considered the possibility that he could have lived his life never knowing about the cruel deception that had forced them apart. He would have gone to his grave always believing she did not love him.
“When you put it like that, I feel an immense gratitude for his cruel and overbearing manner.” He stared at her for a moment,
at the soft full lips he longed to taste, at the dark brown eyes that had the ability to see into his soul. “What will you do now?”
Her curious gaze drifted over his face. “Well, between us I imagine we will have a busy few days. Besides your appointment with Henry, you promised to call on Mr. Chandler. And no doubt Miss Smythe will need someone unbiased to talk to, a lady who will give her an honest opinion.”
“True. And I have yet to inform my mother she will be leaving for Ripon today.”
“Then you promised to take me on a shopping expedition. You promised to buy me something bold and bright as you know how much I like yellow.” She folded her arms across her chest. “So, I’m afraid you will have to put up with me for a little while longer.”
He couldn’t help but smile. Why could she not just say she wanted to spend more time with him?
He rubbed his chin. “If you’re in need of something to do, perhaps you might help me redecorate some of the rooms in Bedford Square. I find I have been wallowing in the darkness for far too long and need some vibrancy in my life.”
She raised a brow. “Most gentlemen prefer subdued colours. I doubt you will want to sit at home staring at yellow walls all day long.”
He shrugged. “I won’t need to. We will only redesign the rooms for your personal use.” An image of her wearing a sheer, diaphanous nightgown as she lounged on a bright pink chaise flashed into his mind.
“My personal use?”
“Well, I would want you to feel at home. Of course, we will share a bedchamber. There will be no sleeping in separate rooms.” Just thinking about waking up next to her each morning caused his heart to race. “And we will spend part of the year at Kempston Hall.”
He expected to see a brilliant smile light up her face, but her expression grew solemn. “Forgive me for being obtuse,” she said quietly, “but what exactly are you suggesting?”
Did he need to spell it out? Were his intentions not perfectly clear?
Then again, he suspected her experiences had made her cautious.
He crossed the carriage to sit at her side, pushed the stray curl from her face. “I love you. I have loved you from the moment I met you and will love you until I draw my last breath. Marry me, Isabella. Take your place at my side as it was always destined to be.”
She swallowed deeply as she stared into his eyes. “Tristan, I love you more than anything. What you offer sounds like heaven here on earth, but what if I am barren and cannot give you a child? A gentleman in your position must produce an heir. The few times with Samuel—”
He put his fingers on her lips. “Do you honestly think I care about that?” Even now her thoughts were only for him. Why had he doubted her all those years ago? “My cousin Harold can have what’s left should that prove to be the case.”
She placed her hand on his cheek, kissed him tenderly on the mouth. “You are the love of my life. I want to spend my days laughing with you, my nights indulging in far more illicit pleasures.”
His heart swelled, as did another part of his anatomy. “We could elope.” He never wanted to be without her again. “We could ride in this carriage all the way to Scotland. Pretend the last five years never existed.”
She gazed longingly into his eyes. “It sounds wonderful. But we cannot abandon Mr. Chandler and Miss Smythe. Had they not agreed to marry, things could have ended so differently for us. And I have a feeling they are going to need our help.”
She was right, of course.
He gave a weary sigh. “I doubt five years of daily prayer and a vow of chastity would reform Matthew Chandler.”
The corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. “Is that how you spent your five years in the monastery?”
“I prayed every night.” Begged was perhaps the appropriate word. “I prayed that the Lord would ease my pain and torment.”
“Well, you can take comfort in the fact that he listened.” She placed her hand on his leg, caressed his thigh with sensual strokes. “Do you recall how excited we were the day we eloped? Do you recall how our excitement led to a rather amorous interlude in the carriage?”